MYSCREAMINGBOX

Sunday, November 9, 2008

我想我可能已近习惯当这样的我。
我很肯定我喜欢这样的我。

开心，不开心，都是为了自己，很踏实。

我自首，
我贪心了。
我忏悔。
我悔改。

或许吧，几年后的我会突然后悔，感叹道自己又老又寂寞。
可是现在的我，真的只求心里踏实，生活过得充实。
有好吃的美食吃，有好听的歌曲被弹奏，我就很开心了。

圣诞节快到了。
今年的圣诞节，

Saturday, November 1, 2008

我突然想再與 JAC 和 MOM 去九份.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/matthewfch/sets/72157600172579397/

Friday, October 31, 2008

Wednesday, September 24, 2008

Of course, she did not know about it.
She planted a orange kiss on his left cheek, with her pointed nose pushing against his brows.
She squat down for him to do the scarf around her neck.
The scarf wrapped her neck, gently and it felt translucent, the way light silk should feel.
She slipped her long slit fingers underneath and was relieved to find the gold necklace still in place.
Yes, the rough gold necklace, so heavy and tyranic, always soring her neck.
As it gritted her skin, it settled down between her flesh and grew onto her.
There is no blood, nor signs of pain.
It looked perfectly right, and she never let a groan of pain spill out of her body.
She looked at him again, and yearns for a chance to see herself through his eyes.
She must be looking gorgeous in that blue little things planted upon his face, she thought.
Those blue things, she used to think they are made of glass, filled with milk and holds another glass ball within it, which holds a slash of the ocean's meat.
She thinks her grandfather had poured chinese calligraphy ink into her glass balls by accident.
She always thought she is sick and bound to die soon as her skin is stale yellow.
She loves it when he brushes his fair white skin against her, she can almost feel her skin lighter and smoother everytime after it.
There is always millions of thoughts running through her jaded brain which never sleeps, but at this moment, the brain rests peacefully. Blank is her mind.
Her mind is at such unusual ease that she thinks she's going to die out soon.
The wind blows against her.
She only feels the warmth of his hand and the chill of the wind.
The wind caught her scarf.
She tried to hold the scarf but her fingers got caught in her tangled black hair.

Her scarf, melted into the wind, and gave the withered petals a ride to the sea.